Looking For That Happy Ending
by poetzproblem
Summary: When she thinks about their past now, she realizes how intertwined their lives have always been. Even the years they'd spent apart hadn't lessened the importance of the woman standing next to her. Her eyes find Quinn without fail whenever they're in the same room. It's always been that way—she just hadn't been aware of it until time and maturity had honed her vision. Faberry Week.


**Author's Note:** Written for Faberry Week, Day 4 - _Caught_.

Eternal thanks and cyber-hugs to Skywarrior108 for being the most awesome beta.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Glee_ or the characters, I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.

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**Looking For That Happy Ending**

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_What I needed most was to love and be loved, eager to be caught.  
__~Saint Augustine_

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Quinn has never looked more beautiful, and that's saying a lot, because Quinn Fabray has always been the prettiest girl that Rachel has ever met. Even at her worst moments, of which Rachel has seen many, there's always been an almost ethereal quality to Quinn that takes her breath away. She used to be so jealous of that flawless beauty; not that Quinn is completely without imperfections. There's the tiny bump on the bridge her nose, the faint freckles on her skin, and the various scars hidden away on her body—some from small mishaps and others from life-altering catastrophes that Quinn has triumphed over again and again. Every blemish is there for anyone to see if they care to look deeply enough, but they fade into insignificance on the broad canvas of loveliness that Quinn possesses, both outside and in, especially today.

She's wearing white, which Rachel admits, helps to enhance that ethereal quality, but it's her smile that really makes Rachel's heart soar. For so long, Quinn had seemed to exist in a perpetual cloud of sadness that orbited her ever-changing moods. Even in her laughter, there was always an air of melancholy, as if Quinn never allowed herself to grow too comfortable in any fleeting moment of joy—a tragically beautiful girl, to quote one of Rachel's favorite Broadway musicals. But none of that cloud is present today, not even the little remnants that still occasionally peek through the sunshine when she thinks about the mistakes of her past.

They'd lost touch for a while during college and beyond, a fact that Rachel will always regret. Quinn had been desperate to cut her own path away from Lima and every reminder of it. She'd once spoken of shedding anchors, but Rachel hadn't fully understood that she'd meant to leave them all behind and sail into a bright future alone. She'd offered Rachel a life-jacket—those Metro North passes—dangling on the end of an already fraying rope, but Rachel hadn't realized that she'd have to be the one to swim those choppy waters if she wanted to keep Quinn in her sights.

It's so easy to let those connections break when you're eighteen and think you have all the time in the world. It's an unpleasant shock to the system when you realize that you don't.

And then, one completely random day, Rachel had been standing on the corner of Sixth and 42nd at Bryant Park, holding a cup of coffee and the _New York Times_, and Quinn was just _there_. Stunned stuttering and awkward embraces had given way to conversation and new discoveries. Rachel had an original show in workshop, while Quinn had changed her major halfway through her second year at Yale and was working on a doctorate in developmental psychology at Columbia. "I want to help children who need it, the way no one ever helped me," she'd admitted, and Rachel had understood that _this_ Quinn was different—thoughtful and mature and fulfilling all of the untapped potential that Rachel had recognized in her so many years before.

It's strange how things happen. Rachel had grown so close to Kurt and Santana in those first few years in New York, but they couldn't always live in each others' pockets. There had been new jobs and new lovers, new apartments and new friends, new marriages and painful breakups, and they'd gradually started to drift further apart just as Quinn had started to get closer and closer. Now Quinn was closer than anyone—Rachel's best friend. Her person when she'd thought that she'd never have that again.

Everyone is here today, old friends and new. Of course they are. No one would dare miss this occasion. Rachel had seen to that. Everything has to be perfect. Despite what she'd once claimed in high school, Quinn Fabray is only going to get married once.

She's every stereotype of a blushing bride—gorgeous, radiant, and glowing with happiness. Rachel stands beside her with the biggest smile her lips are capable of forming as she hangs on every word of the ceremony. She'd done a thorough walk-through of everything early this morning, making sure every flower was in its place, every chair arranged just so, the musicians ready to go with the perfect set-list, and not a speck of dirt on the pristine white carpet that leads to the decorated alter. Quinn had laughed, playfully warning her that the wedding planner was going to think that Rachel was trying to steal her job. It wasn't very far from the truth. Rachel just wants to make everything special for Quinn, and she hadn't fully trusted anyone else to do it. Once upon a time, Quinn had made Rachel prom queen, giving her the perfect night without Rachel even being aware. It only seems fair that she should return the favor.

When she thinks about their past now, she realizes how intertwined their lives have always been. Even the years they'd spent apart hadn't lessened the importance of the woman standing next to her. Her eyes find Quinn without fail whenever they're in the same room. It's always been that way—she just hadn't been aware of it until time and maturity had honed her vision. Slowly, gradually, like a lens coming into focus, fading in and out before sharpening into perfect clarity, Rachel had slid completely and irrevocably into love with Quinn Fabray.

She understands the difference now between falling in love and growing into it. To paraphrase Elizabeth Bennet, it came on so gradually that she hardly knows when it began. Sometimes, she thinks that the seed was planted in high school, just waiting for the rain to pass and the sunshine to kiss it awake. Now it's grown so thick and wild in her heart that she can't remember what her life was like before it was there.

She loves everything about Quinn. Her external beauty is nothing to what Rachel has discovered inside. Of course, Quinn still has her moments—the walls still come up from time to time, or her patience runs thin—but Rachel finds those rare storms easier to weather when they're tempered with endless days full of trust and respect.

And now she's listening to Quinn recite her wedding vows, speaking in reverent tones of love and friendship, of courage and change and growing together over the years, and of happiness like she's never known and hopes to never be without again. Rachel's heart stutters and skips and falls and rises with every subtle inflection, every pause and breath and tremor. The tears of joy in Quinn's eyes spark her own, and she doesn't feel the need to stem the flow.

Her own vows fill her mind, abundant with promises—to love and cherish, to protect, to always keep the happiness in Quinn's heart. She fingers the cold metal of the ring with reverence, tracing the pad of her fingertip over the tiny stones set within before she transfers it to Quinn's hand. She can barely see through her own tears.

The rest of the ceremony is a blur, and Rachel tries to capture every detail in her memory because she needs to remember this day. She needs to remember every expression on Quinn's face and every quiver in her voice. She needs to burn the word _wife_ into her soul and taste it in her mouth in those moments when she's alone in her dressing room, bound by commitments, and longing to break every contract and promise just to be alone with Quinn. And then it's time to kiss the bride, and Rachel's eyes fall closed as lips meet to seal the bond in this life and the next.

"I love you," Quinn murmurs, and Rachel sighs, the echoing words reverberating through her own heart.

Quinn's smile is brighter than Rachel has ever seen it. It never fades as she walks back down the aisle, poses for picture after picture with the wedding photographer, and then picture after picture with the wedding guests. She wears it like a permanent accessory as she makes the rounds at the reception, and Rachel's eyes rarely leave her, even as she listens to their friends gush about the ceremony and the decor and the food. Rachel can't deny that she's proud of how everything came together.

The Lighthouse is a perfect location, and Rachel eventually finds herself outside on the balcony, admiring the view of the Hudson River as it glimmers under the light of the moon and the city around them. She adjusts her dress—it looks stunning, but it's not exactly comfortable—and nurses her glass of champagne. She just needs a moment to breathe in the fresh air. She's not surprised when Quinn finds her a few minutes later, still wearing that same smile and lightly holding her own glass, against which her wedding rings sparkle and flash.

"I wondered where you disappeared to," she says, her voice light and melodic as she stops next to the railing and leans into Rachel's side. "I was worried you were off browbeating the caterers for running out of caviar."

"We're out of caviar?" Rachel gasps, stiffening at Quinn's side.

Quinn giggles, and Rachel knows by the sound that she's a little tipsy. "Don't worry about it. No one even noticed. They're all distracted by the chocolate fountain."

Rachel settles slightly, nodding her acquiescence. "I suppose that there's nothing to be done about it now."

Quinn shifts her glass into her opposite hand and gives her a one-armed hug, sliding her palm down to rest low on Rachel's hip as she drops her head onto Rachel's shoulder. Rachel slips an arm around Quinn's waist and holds her close, savoring this moment of quiet with just the two of them. "Have I thanked you for making today absolutely perfect?" she asks quietly.

Rachel chuckles, giving her a squeeze. "Once or twice."

"Well, thank you," Quinn says, lifting her head and turning in Rachel's arms to ghost her cheek with a tender kiss before giving her a proper hug, albeit carefully with the champagne flutes still held in both their hands. Rachel rest her chin into the curve of Quinn's shoulder and lets her eyes fall closed as she exhales, then breathes in Quinn's calming scent.

"I really do love you, Rach," Quinn murmurs happily.

"I love you, too," she whispers, holding Quinn tighter for a moment before she lets her go.

Quinn pulls away with a grin. "Come on. Let's go back inside," she urges, finding Rachel's hand and gripping it in her own. "It's almost time to throw the bouquet, and you know you don't want to miss that."

Rachel forces a smile in return, mumbling, "Of course not," as she allows Quinn pull her back inside.

Halfway into the room, Quinn lets go of her hand and quickens her steps, making a beeline for her groom, who is smiling just as widely as she is. Rachel watches Quinn fall into his arms and kiss him, and she turns away, gazing around the room again as all their friends hoot and cheer.

Tom really is a wonderful man—kind and handsome and so good to Quinn—but Rachel can't help the little part of her that hates him for winning Quinn's heart before she'd had the chance. Not that she'd ever really had a chance. Quinn only sees her as a best friend, and if this is all that Rachel can have, she'll take it like a bitter pill and smile in gratitude, though it burns all the way down.

She lines up with all the other single women, watching Quinn laugh and flirt with her brand new husband as he helps her step up onto a chair. She calls out to ask if everyone is ready and is met with eager cheers. Rachel stands in the back, watching more than participating. Quinn glances over her shoulder and meets Rachel's eyes, giving her a wink before launching the bouquet over her shoulder with perfect aim. It falls into Rachel's arms without any effort.

Everyone around her claps and congratulates her, and Quinn comes rushing over, giving her another hug and telling her, "You're next." She smiles and nods, feeling renewed tears spring to her eyes and her heart break inside her chest as Tom takes Quinn's hand and pulls her away to remove her garter.

Rachel dips her head and lets a teardrop fall into the petals of the calla lilies in her hands. She may have caught the bouquet, but someone else is walking away with the only prize that matters.


End file.
